His head broke the surface of a black lake of sleep. In the instant of waking he felt a panic seize him as though he was waking on gurney, arms and legs strapped down. He sat bolt upright in his cot with a gasp, a film of sweat gluing his undershirt to his body. The guard who had awoken him had already turned away, muttering about the shower queue.

Meli yanked the shower chain and braced himself for the blast of icy water cascading over his head and shoulders. He lathered quickly and rinsed with another shocking burst of water then wrapped himself, shivering, in a towel not quite large enough to dry himself. The harsh fluorescent lights on the white tile burned his eyes at this hour. It wasn't until he was lacing up his boots that he realized he hadn't had a single nightmare vision yet that morning. The shower had washed the cobwebs from his mind.

It might even be a good day.

His service at the Mansion had been cut short, along with five other guards leaving the Inn with a skeleton crew. Without explanation, they had been ordered to march back south, their destination unknown. Meli thought that didn't sound good. The men gossiped about the altered schedule in low voices but Meli kept to himself. He'd be told the where and what soon enough. Until then he simply had to wait. And stay focused.

The order came and a half-dozen guards double-timed it south four blocks along the lakeshore path as the sun rose over Lake Lawrence. They paused at the crossroads and waited to be joined by another six guards heading east from the Tombstone. The leader of the squad assumed command of the dozen-man unit and barked at them that they would be marching a five-mile route from their present location to the Rock, no stops. They were on high alert and should not engage with any enemy unless absolutely necessary. The men exchange uneasy glances. Routine sweeps through the city involved danger but guards got to keep most of what they confiscated from scavengers. This no-stop run was all risk, no reward.

They pounded pavement. They saw no movement among the burned out houses and overgrown brush surrounding them. A squirrel dashed into the street before them and sat on his hind legs and watched the phalanx of guards stomping towards it. It twitched its nose and scurried away. They saw a pair of bodies lying in the park. Sleeping or dead, they had the good sense not to move as the guards marched past.

Meli could feel the tension among the men rise as they crossed past the decrepit hospital and into the central part of the city. Flickering orange lights guttered from a few of the middle floor windows. The twelve-man team stomped along, men taking turns scanning the building's exterior and outside grounds. The morning was quiet yet, the silence broken only by their labored breathing and the rhythm of their footfalls on broken asphalt.

Another three blocks and their pace slowed as the men caught their breath. A hovel constructed of debris spilled from the sidewalk down to the street. It was the kind of shelter squatters assembled and the MPD destroyed, over and over, week in and week out. Then a thin man clothed in rags stumbled out from the lean-to toward a burning barrel, over whichsome skewered rodents cooked. The guards halted as one. The front line dropped to one knee and raised their weapons in a rehearsed sweep as the others fanned out behind them.

Meli took cover. Focus. The hovel had been built against a building. Dozens more scavengers could be inside, ready to pour out like wasps from a kicked hive. He licked his lips. The bum still hadn't noticed them.

"Put your hands up!" shouted the C.O.

The man straightened and slowly raised his arms, his face bleary, his expression questioning whether if this wasn't some drug-induced dream. His mouth worked up and down, as if he had been asked an important question but couldn't find the answer.

"How many are inside?" the commander shouted again.

The wretch looked skyward. His lips moved and the C.O. told him to speak louder.

"What?" he asked. Was he genuinely confused or play-acting? Hard to tell. Focus.

Meli focused on his breathing. So far it had been a good day. No visions so far but he felt a headache pricking the back of his eyes. He tasted dust. They waited, expecting something to erupt.

"Squad!" the C.O. shouted. "On my word, form two echelons and head east, one block. For those on the flanks: watch our backs, gentlemen."

He gave the word and the guardsmen fell into formation and continued their southward march at a faster clip. The men traded uneasy, silent glances. No explanation asked for, none given. In other circumstances they would've stormed the shelter, flattening it and whoever was inside. A dozen armed MPD backing off a single scavenger? This new policy of non-engagement was more than a little disconcerting.

Meli didn't let it cloud his thinking. His mind was clear and focused. The morning was still young, but it had been a very good day.